Extra Pale
by Jenny7
Summary: After two years of being clean, Carter discovers an unforseen consequence to his addiction. Will be a dark fic. Final chapter up!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I confess! I stole them! I put duct tape over their mouths and locked them in the trunk of my car. Then I used them as if they were my own. Sue me if you must, but they are not mine. The title is from a Goo Goo Dolls song.  
  
Authors Note: This is going to be a sad fic, so be warned. Carter discovers that he has a fatal disease as a result of his previous drug use. You can probably guess what, but I'm not giving it away just yet. And Mark Greene is NOT dying in this fic.   
  
  
Extra Pale  
  
  
"Lavage is positive!" Carter shouted loudly and held up the container of red fluid to illustrate.   
"OK. Let's get him upstairs. Let's go people, he's just a boy." Elizabeth Corday directed the others and began wheeling the gurney away.   
Carter watched in silence as the ten-year-old gangbanger was wheeled out of the trauma two. The swinging doors closed and silence ensued.   
  
Kerry whipped off her gloves in one swift motion and headed for the doors.   
"Carter get Abby to clean this up and get back to your patients. It's getting overcrowded in chairs."   
Carter didn't move his gaze from the now still doors until after Kerry left the room. Moments later, Abby walked in.   
  
"Hey Carter. Weaver 'ordered' me to clean up. Just once I'd like to hear the word 'please' around here." She began picking up stray instruments. When Carter didn't reply she looked up. "Everything ok Carter?"   
  
He startled slightly and met her concerned gaze.   
"Yea. Yea, just tired. I'm just getting over this flu thing." He took off his gloves and then began rubbing the back of his neck.   
"Yea its been going around. We had five patients in today with it. I had to change my scrubs twice." She made a face and Carter grinned.   
"Yea well this double shift I'm pulling isn't helping much either." He blinked his eyes rapidly and leaned against the counter to watch Abby clean up.   
"Yea why are you here anyway? I didn't see your name on the schedule today." Abby questioned and continued counting the syringes and instruments used.   
  
Carter turned and faced her.  
"That's because it's not. Weaver suckered me into it." Abby snorted.   
"What'd she do, threaten to kill your first born?"   
"No, she knows that doesn't work on me." He paused and smirked. "Anymore. No she used my Chief Resident position as black mail. I believe her exact words were 'You've done an excellent job as chief resident so far but-" He stood with his hands on his hips in an imitation of Weaver.   
"There's always a but." Abby interjected. Carter chuckled.   
"-but a good chief fills in when he's needed."   
  
Abby looked up and raised her eyebrows. "Ouch. I see she still has her touch."   
"That she does."   
  
Suddenly the doors opened and the subject of the discussion stepped in.   
"Carter! Patients, now. Abby can handle this by herself." Then she disappeared into the hallway.   
Carter smirked at Abby and headed for the doors.   
"My own fault really. A very arrogant man once told me: 'The longer you stay the longer you stay.' Its good advice, might want to keep it in mind." With a wink and a smile he exited.   
  
TEN MINUTES LATER  
  
Carter found himself stitching up a foot lac on a young college student. Only a few hours left on this shift and he prayed that he'd make it. His stomach was cramping and he couldn't seem to stop coughing. He was beginning to regret letting Weaver persuade him to take on over time.   
"This isn't going to scar is it?" The patient asked. Carter looked up from his work to find his vision suddenly very blurred. The mans face was just a pattern of colors that blended with the rest of the room and his head began to swim. He could barely make out the man's confused voice from the waves of sound echoing in his ears. Dropping the needle and scissors, he stood slowly.   
  
"Hey man, you ok? You look a little pale."   
Without answering, Carter stumbled out of the room and into the men's room.   
  
FIVE MINUTES LATER  
  
Sounds of retching echoed throughout the hollow walls of the bathroom. They originated in a closed stall farthest from the entrance, where a young doctor was losing the two cups of coffee and one chocolate doughnut he's consumed in the last twenty-four hours.   
  
Finally, the retching ceased and the young doctor leaned against the cold tiled wall. He supported his head on the toilet paper dispenser and felt his forehead with his hand. With a sigh he brought his hand back down. He felt warm again. This was the second time today that he's visited this stall; the fifth time this week. Every time he thought he'd gotten rid of this bug it returned. Each time with more force then before. He was beginning to worry. The doctor in him said that this was not good, not good at all.   
  
TBC 


	2. Chapter Two

Extra Pale  
  
  
"Carter. Hey Carter wake up, we've got an MVA coming in now. Carter..." The voice was vaguely familiar as it hit his ears. All he could do was to pretend not to hear it. His brain tried to pick through the information being thrown at him.   
  
MVA  
  
Now  
  
Wake up  
  
But his body said differently. His legs refused to move and his eyes refused to open. That is until he felt it. A rough touch on his arm. Shaking him back to life.   
With a yelp he shot straight up into a sitting position.   
  
"Wha? Huh?" He looked around blurry eyed and the face of Susan Lewis came into focus.   
"Carter are you ok? You don't look so well." He felt a cool hand touch his forehead and scooted himself out from under it.   
"I'm fine Susan. Just a little tired. You said something about an MVA?" He hopped off the gurney and tried to hide the dizziness that followed the sudden movement.   
"Uh, yea. It's pulling up now." He started out the door and Susan followed him. "Look I can wake Mark up if you want. You really don't look very well Carter."   
  
He stopped to pull on a gown and gloves.   
  
"Susan I'm fine. Really." He smirked and headed out the ambulance bay doors. Susan stayed in place for a moment, watching the man disappear outside.   
  
"I've heard that before." She muttered before joining him.   
  
  
AN HOUR LATER  
  
Finally, his shift was over. Carter strolled into the locker room, trying his best to maintain his composure until he left the hospital. Truth was, he felt horrible. His stomach was still in knots and his chest ached from the constant coughing fits. All he wanted to do was go home and go to bed.   
  
"Hey Carter, you leaving?" Mark asked as he opened his locker. Carter smiled thinly.  
"Yep. I am officially off. You?" Mark looked up and nodded.   
"Yep, I'm going home and catching up on my sleep." He paused and looked the younger doctor over. "You should do the same. You look kind of green."   
  
Carter suppressed his normal response and smiled.   
"Yea actually I am feeling a little under the weather. It's this flu that's going around."   
Mark closed his locker and set his stuff on the table to sort it out.   
"I hear it's brutal. Push fluids and rest up. That's what we've been telling the patients."   
Carter closed his locker and pulled on his jacket.   
"Will do Dr. Greene. Thanks. I'll see you next week." He grabbed his bag and headed out.   
"See ya Carter." Mark called out after him.   
  
  
THIRTY MINUTES LATER  
  
The subway had been brutal. He'd been forced to stand up the whole way and had fought to keep from slipping unconscious. But it was all worth it once he walked into his apartment door and fell down onto his bed. After that everything went black.   
  
A massive coughing fit awoke Carter at two o'clock that morning. Rolling over onto his side, he felt his way to the bathroom. Every breath caused him another fit and he had to lean on the bathroom door to steady himself as the coughs racked his already frail body.   
  
It took a few moments but he was finally able to control the coughing and feel his way into the bathroom. Flipping on the light he stepped in front of the mirror. What he saw surprised him.   
  
Blood. Everywhere. His shirt was covered in tiny stains of dark red. His hand, which he'd used to cover his mouth, was also coated in the liquid. Carter's eyes widened. His breath caught in his throat as his brain took him back to that day years before.   
  
He remembered the blood; his blood, Lucy's blood. It had been everywhere. So thick and deep red and it had a strong metallic smell. Or had that been the scent of the knife that had penetrated his back? This blood, on his shirt, smelled the same. He reached out for the wall quickly before collapsing onto the white tile floor. He felt his lungs wheezing for air and he began to cough again. More blood splattered in his palm.   
  
"Help. Somebody." He whispered to nobody. The air was still and only the strong scent of blood and tears clung to it. The familiar fear was back. Something was very wrong here.   
  
TBC 


	3. Chapter Three

Extra Pale  
  
He sat in his jeep outside the hospital, watching his hands shake uncontrollably. It'd taken him an hour to get off the bathroom floor. Another half hour to get out of the soiled clothes and into a respectable pair of pants and shirt. Finally he'd dug up enough energy to get out to the jeep and drive to County General. Now he sat alone in the parking lot of the hospital, listening to the ambulances drive by.   
  
It seemed that everything had happened in slow motion. The coughing, the blood, the process of getting to where he was right now. It was as if his mind had taken a lunch break and his body did all the talking. But the talking had stopped and he was frozen in the drivers seat. He debated just starting the engine and driving back home. It would be so easy to just dive into bed and let the darkness settle over him. He seriously considered it for all of two minutes before the coughing started again.   
  
He found he was unable to catch his breathe. The walk down the stairs of the house and out to the jeep had been almost unbearable. He'd had to stop several times to catch his breathe. Luckily his mom hadn't woken up. She was used to him coming in late at night from work and usually didn't stir when he slammed the door or trampled up the stairs.   
  
Thank God for small favors.   
  
If she'd seen him in this state he would probably be in the back of an ambulance right now sucking oxygen through a mask.   
  
'which is where I should be'. He thought. 'If it were one of my patients coughing up blood and vomiting twice a day I'd be checking him into the hospital right about now.'   
  
But he was a doctor. It was different. When doctors got sick they ignored it. They went on with their jobs and pretended that they were invincible. Illness couldn't touch them. They were gods among the sick and dying that frequented the hospital. They were the healthy few who just shook their heads and sighed when a patient came in with a serious illness or injury. Doctors didn't become patients. It meant that they weren't who they thought they were. Carter was fighting with that thought right now.   
  
He went to take a deep breathe and felt a sharp pain run through his chest. He coughed red mucus into his already stained handkerchief and closed his eyes. This was bad. The hospital was only feet away from him. But did he dare admit to his colleagues, to himself, that he was not well. Everything was not fine.   
  
'It is pneumonia.' He told himself. 'Probably the result of this horrible flu I've had lately. That's all. Just the flu. Nothing serious.'   
  
With that thought in his head he got out of the jeep and walked slowly towards the hospital. As he walked he was reminded of his first day back to work after the incident in Atlanta. The way they'd all looked at him, as if he would brake into a million pieces at any moment. It was a feeling he'd never forget. But there was also pride, because he'd made it through hell and back again. He hadn't become a statistic...yet.   
Finally he reached the entrance to the ER and with as deep a breath as he could take without coughing he shoved through them.   
The ER was quiet tonight, much unlike when he had left only hours before. Jerry was at the desk, playing a game on the computer. Chuny was next to him laughing at his antics. Before they could see him he found an empty chair and sat facing away from the desk.   
  
He had to regain his nerve before approaching them. He was sick, he knew that. It was fairly obvious with his very pale complexion and weakened state. They would know, the least he could do was pretend it wasn't that much of a bother. All he wanted was a simple chest X-ray, some antibiotics maybe. That was all. No sympathy needed here. None at all.   
  
He stood and help his head up high. He put a slight smile on his face, not so big that it would be suspicious. Just enough so they could see that he was still himself, not about to fall down on the floor.   
  
"Hey guys." He announced and casually leaned himself on the desk. His body felt suddenly very heavy.   
  
Chuny and Jerry looked up and a sudden flash of panic swept over their faces.   
  
"Carter, what happened to you?" Jerry asked.   
"Ate some bad shellfish." He answered lightly with a forced smile.  
  
Chuny stepped out from behind the desk and walked over to him.   
"Seriously Carter, you don't look so good." She reached up and touched his head. "You're burning up Carter!" He moved out of her grasp quickly and felt a sudden wave of dizziness overcome him.  
  
"Its just this flu thing." He paused "Is Susan still on?" Chuny looked him over once more and seemed to consider her answer.  
"She's in exam 2."   
"Thanks. I'll let you get back to your game. Take my advice though, don't bet against Jerry!" He walked unsteadily towards exam 2.   
  
As he approached the door he began to cough again, and suddenly the floor was moving up to him. He had just reached the open door and recognized Susan before the world flipped over.   
  
The last thing he heard was Susan's voice calling his name.  
  
TBC 


	4. Chapter Four

Extra Pale  
  
(I just want to thank everybody for the great reviews and advice. I take it all into consideration when I write. Thanks a lot!)   
  
  
  
When he came to, there was a light shining in his eyes. It was bright and for a moment he truly thought that he had died and was being taken to heaven. He thought about seeing all those people that he missed so dearly, starting with Bobby. There was so much he had to say to him, so much he never got to say. Growing up without his brother had been brutal and he'd often wished for just one more conversation with him. Just one more chance to say 'I love you'.   
  
He thought of seeing Gant and apologizing for not being the friend that Gant had been to him. He only hoped that Gant could forgive him. He'd never been able to forgive himself.   
  
And then there was Lucy. Sweet talented Lucy. The med student that everyone dreamed of having. And what had he done? He'd put her down constantly, barely ever told her how proud he really was of her. She would have made a great doctor. But she had been the one to die. He often wondered why it had happened that way. Maybe it should have been him, maybe the world would have been a better place.   
  
But as the light began to burn his eyes, he knew that this was not heaven. Heaven didn't hurt. At least that's what he'd always been told. He fought to open his eyes and face the source of the light, but it was struggle. Slowly, the voices around him became clearer and clearer. There were two female voices and one male voice. He listened.   
  
"He said he'd been sick with the flu, but I didn't know it was this bad. He wasn't this bad earlier when I talked to him."   
  
"Well he was running a fever when I woke him up earlier, but I couldn't convince him to go home."   
  
"Yea. Weaver made him take a double."   
  
He felt a warm hand stroke his face and identified it as belonging to the brown haired nurse that was speaking.   
  
"Well he's extremely dehydrated. Did anyone see him eat today?" This voice had a thick accent. When there was no verbal answer the man continued. "Well I think we should do some tests. This is more then just the flu."   
  
"We have to wait until he wakes up." said the voice of the blonde doctor.   
  
"Wait, I think he's coming to. Carter? Carter can you hear me?" That was the nurse. Carter groaned and moved his head back and forth. It felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. He tried to bring his hand to his face but found that it was attached to something by the side of the bed.   
  
"Carter? You have an IV in your left arm. We had to hydrate you. How are you feeling?" The Croatian doctor asked. Carter groaned again and opened his eyes to three blurry shapes hovering over him.   
  
"Uh...I've been better. Its just this flu thing. I haven't been able to keep much down lately." He explained in voice that only came out in a whisper. His throat ached.   
  
"Well most people don't pass out from the flu Carter, and you're still running a fever." Said the blonde doctor. "I think we should do some tests."   
  
Carter groaned inwardly. He hated having tests done. He remembered all the hell he'd gone through after being stabbed. The nurses were constantly poking him and checking everything. He closed his eyes for a moment and admitted defeat.   
  
"I need a chest X-ray. That's why I came in." He opened his eyes to see six concerned eyes staring back.   
"You've been short of breathe?" Luka asked. Carter nodded as best he could.   
"And coughing, a lot." He decided to leave the blood part out for right now.   
"OK we'll get that right away. I think we should get a chem 7 too. Just to be on the safe side." Luka explained. "We'll leave you alone for now and we'll bring the X-ray in as soon as we can."   
  
He noticed the three meet eyes for a moment before beginning to leave.   
  
"Wait." He called out as loudly as his voice would go. "Abby, can you stay for a minute?" She glanced at the other two and nodded.  
"Sure Carter." The others exited and Abby approached the bed again. " So I guess you can give Weaver the guilt trip now huh?" When Carter didn't smile she frowned. "What is it Carter?"   
  
He tried his best to push the words out of his mouth. He told himself he could trust Abby. That she would keep his secret.   
  
"Abby, can you draw some blood for me?" He asked. She seemed confused for a moment.  
"But Luka ordered a chem 7 Carter. We'll test for everything, don't worry." She touched his arm and that only made the next statement harder.   
  
"No, I need you to draw some blood without telling the others." He paused. "I need an HIV test."   
  
  
TBC (Sorry for all the cliffhangers! I just love 'em!) 


	5. Chapter Five

Extra Pale  
  
  
::Flashback::   
  
May 2000  
  
He was only nineteen years old. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. He was a starter on his college basketball team. He had a girlfriend and he was a straight A student. He wore a jersey and shorts when he arrived by ambulance.   
  
There was also a needle sticking out of his arm.   
  
His name was Terry Wilks, and he'd only wanted to get high.  
  
"This the OD?" Carter asked, although it was clear to him that it was.   
"Yep. Morphine." Abby Lockhart, a former OB nurse, answered. She examined his other arm. "And apparently this wasn't his first time."   
  
Carter intubated the boy and pulled the needle out of his arm. Meanwhile, Abby bagged him and Heleh did chest compressions.   
  
As he held the needle in his hand, he noticed something. There was still some of the drug left in the syringe. He was mesmerized by the clear liquid. His heart began to pound with desire. Just looking at the syringe made the cravings more intense then usual.   
  
"Carter!" He looked up to see Abby, Heleh, and Dave, who had recently joined them, staring at him expectantly.   
  
"Uh...what were you saying?" He asked. Dr. Dave stepped in.   
"Medic's said the guy's been down twenty minutes." He explained. Carter sobered quickly.   
"So? We've brought them back after more then that." Carter replied and moved to take over compressions. Dave stopped him.  
"Uh, that's twenty minutes since they found him. They think it was at least another ten before they got there." Dave was totally serious, a rare moment.   
  
The message registered and Carter came back to reality. He took a deep breath and stopped compressions.  
"OK, stop bagging. That's it." Carter dropped the dirty syringe into the waste disposal bin and walked out without another word.   
  
With only two minutes to go before he was officially off work, Carter was anxious. His back was killing him. The fentynol had worn off twenty minutes ago and he was beginning to feel the effects of withdrawal. The death of his patient, a boy full of potential, had also brought on the craving. He needed something to forget. He needed something, and fast.   
  
"Carter, lets go. We need you in here!" He looked up to see Mark Greene following a Gurney into Trauma One. On it was an unconscious older man.   
"I'm off in..." He checked his watch. "a minute and a half." Carter replied. The irritation in his voice was apparent.   
  
"Yea and Mr. Donaldson here may not have that long if you don't get in here and intubate him." Mark shouted back from the open doors of the trauma room.   
Carter felt a twinge of guilt quickly followed by the awareness of his now shaking hands. He couldn't get away with stealing any more fentynol today. But he needed something, anything to tide him over. Nothing else mattered. He needed the high and he needed it now.   
  
His thoughts turned back to the dead college student in Trauma Two. Abby and the other nurses were too busy to clean up the room yet. He thought of the hazardous waste bin, and what lay hidden inside. It was like it was calling out to him.   
  
'He's a straight A college student. What are the chances he'd be infected with anything? What are the chances that there'd be any danger at all?'   
  
The thought was quickly followed by his body's demand for the drug. There was no time to debate. Anyway, his body always won out.   
  
He casually strolled into the trauma room. He peeked through the windows of trauma two and into trauma one. Mark was working on the other patient, and he seemed to be growing impatient. He had to hurry.   
He quickly ducked away from the window before the others could notice him and slowly made his way to the other side of the room. He pushed himself towards the waste disposal bin, only feet away. Despite the pain in his back, he bent down and opened the lid.   
  
There it was on the very top of the pile. The needle the boy had used to overdose.   
  
'This is too easy.' He thought.   
  
Picking it up he tapped it to remove any air bubbles. There was still half a syringe of morphine. That should tide him over until he could get what he really wanted, what he needed. Fentynol.   
  
He moved his watch aside to reveal the increasingly obvious track marks. Suddenly, a feeling of shock swept over him.   
  
'What am I doing? I'm a doctor, not a junky. What am I doing?'   
  
But when another pain racked his back all rational thoughts were thrown aside. He aimed the needle for a good vein and inserted it.   
  
As soon as the drug hit him he felt relief. As it washed through his veins he dropped the needle back into the waste disposal bin. He was in bliss. He was in paradise.   
  
Then he remembered Mark, and the trauma. Quickly he ran into the hallway and back into trauma one.   
  
"You're a little late Carter." Mark protested with a glare that could cut through stone. The patient had coded minutes before, and Mark was not happy.   
  
"Sorry. My back's been acting up today. I had to take my med's." He explained. It was close to the truth anyway.   
Mark's glare dissolved into an embarrassed frown and he sighed.   
"Oh. Why don't you head on home then. You're shift's over anyway." He refused to meet Carter's eyes.   
"OK." Carter turned to leave and stopped. "I'm sorry about the patient Dr. Greene."   
Mark looked up and smiled sympathetically.   
"It's ok Carter. We lose 'em every day. See you tomorrow."   
"I know." Carter replied sadly. "Bye Dr. Greene."   
  
He was about to walk out the doors when a very sad looking woman stopped him. She had tearstains on her cheeks and she clutched a letterman's jacket in her hands.   
"Excuse me? Are you the doctor that treated my son?" He stopped and stared. She was tall and fit with blonde hair and clear blue eyes. The jacket she held had the name "Terry" sewn into the front left pocket. On the back was the number 33.   
"Mrs. Wilks?" He asked. She nodded.   
"Yes. I just wanted to thank you doctor, for all you did to help him." Carter smiled sadly.   
"We did everything we could. I'm very sorry for your loss." He truly meant it, but the drugs in his system made it hard to remain sedated.   
The woman fingered the jacket and smiled.   
"Terry was very sick. It would have happened sooner or later. In my son's case, better that it was sooner."   
  
He froze. His eyes went wide with surprise and he met the women's teary eyes straight on.   
  
'What did she mean by sick?' He had to ask.  
  
"Your son was sick Mrs. Wilks?"   
The silence that followed was deafening. It seemed to last an eternity, when it reality it was only a few seconds that passed by. The woman began crying again.   
"Yes. My son had HIV. He's been using drugs for so long. I knew it would eventually happen. But you are never truly prepared to see your own child; your baby..." She began to cry uncontrollably and he reached out to comfort her. It was pure reflex by now. She quickly pulled back and sucked up her tears.   
"Anyway, thank you again doctor." She turned and walked quickly out the doors.   
  
Carter stood silently for a long moment. His mouth hung agape and the color drained from his face. One thought echoed through his head.   
'I'm dead.'  
  
  
::End Flashback::  
  
He knew the results the moment Abby walked into his hospital room. Her eyes were downcast and she seemed on the verge of tears.   
  
"The results aren't in yet but your chest x-ray came back." She paused and seemed to brace herself. "It's PCP Carter."   
  
He felt his word crumble.   
  
"Pneumocystis huh?" He snorted. "The defining illness of AIDS." He swallowed thickly and pushed away the tears. "Can't argue with those odds I guess."   
  
He turned from Abby so she couldn't see the tear slide down his cheek.   
  
  
TBC 


	6. Chapter Six

Extra Pale  
  
  
There was much to be done. So much to prepare for. He was 31 years old and he was dying. All because of one fatal mistake years before. All because of an addiction. An addiction resulting from being stabbed by a psych patient.   
  
Sitting in his hospital bed, he began to trace back the timeline of his life. It was an exercise he had learned in Atlanta in order to find the root of his problems. He could blame his parents for neglecting him, the family maid for molesting him, maybe even Paul Sobriki for stabbing him. But they hadn't picked up that needle that fateful day. They hadn't jammed it into his vein, poisoning his blood. He'd done that. It was all him.  
  
He adjusted the oxygen tube in his nose and sat up completely. He was still short of breath, but Luka and Susan had shot him full of so many antibiotics that he doubted his blood would still be red if he pricked himself. He was to start on the cocktail immediately, something he wasn't looking forward to. The nausea wasn't bad anymore either, although he still couldn't eat. He just didn't see the point.   
  
He no longer had HIV. He had AIDS, which gave him a couple of years to live...maybe. At least that's what the statistics said. He remembered the relief he'd gotten after the first three HIV tests he'd taken had come back negative. After that, although his medical training said otherwise, he'd stopped testing his blood. He'd assumed he'd be ok.   
  
Or maybe it was just pure denial.   
  
Now here he was, in the hospital with pneumonia. But wait, not just pneumonia. Funny how the mind focus's on the most minor details in these situations.   
  
He looked at the clock and realized that Susan would be coming to visit in a half-hour, after her shift. He still had time.   
  
He reached into the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out the pen and paper he'd requested. He pulled the cap off and made a list.   
  
Rena  
Elaine  
Mom  
Dad  
Barbara   
Carol Hathoway  
Mark Greene  
Peter Benton  
  
These were the people he needed to notify. These were the people he wanted to know about his condition who didn't already know. Those at the top were the most important. Rena and Elaine were at risk. They'd slept with him since that fateful day two years before. He felt very relieved that he and Susan had not gone that far.   
The others had influenced his life in so many ways. They deserved to be thanked. They deserved to know when the funeral was and why it was.   
  
He'd ask Susan to go to his house and get his address book later. Meanwhile, there was one person on that list who had invested so much time into his life. Sadly, it wasn't his mother or his father. He picked up the phone and dialed Peter Benton's number.  
  
The phone was picked up on the second ring. On the other end was a female voice.  
  
"Hi Cleo." Carter said pleasantly. He cleared his still sore throat.   
"Oh hey Carter. How are you?" That was the one hundred-dollar question.   
"Um, not too bad right now actually." He answered honestly.   
"I'm doing great actually. I just got promoted to Pede's Attending at the hospital here."   
"That's great Cleo. I'm happy for you." He smiled, but there was sadness in his eyes.   
"Thanks. Oh here Carter, Peter just walked in. You care ok?"   
"You too Cleo. Bye." He waited a moment as the phone exchanged. Then he heard a familiar voice on the other end.   
  
"Hey man how's it going?"   
"Hey Peter. Um...it's going I guess." He stuttered. "How are things on your end?"   
"Not bad." There was a small silence. "You're calling kind of early Carter. Weaver put you on nights again?"   
Carter laughed slightly. "No, no. She did make me pull a double yesterday though." Peter laughed which made Carter smile.   
"I see not much has changed since I left." He paused. "So shouldn't you be sleeping right now?"  
Carter took a deep breath and began coughing. He was relieved to find that there was no blood on his hand when he brought it back down.   
  
"You ok man? You don't sound so good." Carter winced. Now or never.   
"No, actually I'm not ok. I had this nasty flu bug which developed into pneumonia. Currently I'm sucking oxygen through a tube and being filled with drugs."   
  
The reaction was instantaneous.  
"Carter I thought I told you to take care of yourself!" Said Peter harshly, but Carter sensed a tint of worry.   
"You try getting vomited on once a day and see if you don't get sick." Carter joked.   
"I told you, you should have stayed in surgery." Peter joked. Then he turned serious. "Is it bacterial or viral?"   
"What?" Carter stuttered.   
"Bacterial or viral pneumonia Carter?" There was a slight irritation in his reply.   
  
Carter knew that he would have to tell him. There was no turning back.   
"Neither. Its, um, Pneumocystis." He spoke quietly, but the silence on the other end said that Peter had understood him. Finally, after a large moment of silence, Peter spoke.   
"Are you sure Carter? The only way you can get that is..." He trailed off, knowing he was understood.   
"Yea. Yea I know. And I'm sure. The chest X-ray showed it clearly." He paused to let Peter comprehend the information. "So, bummer huh?"   
  
"Bummer? Carter that's all you have to say?" Peter was very angry, although Carter wasn't sure if it was him or the information, or both.   
"What do you want me to say?" Carter asked meekly. He heard Benton sigh.   
"How? When? How long have you known? What is it HIV or AIDS? Talk to me Carter!"   
"Dirty needle, two years ago, I just found out today for the most part, and its AIDS." He replied curtly, which seemed to anger Benton all the more.   
"What do you mean for the most part?" When there was no answer he asked again. "What did you mean by that Carter?"   
"I meant that I had an idea that the needle was dirty."   
"So why did you use it Carter? You're a doctor, you should know better!"   
"Well I guess I was just too stoned to care at the time!" He found himself yelling and calmed down quickly. He didn't want a nurse coming in and sedating him. "Look, Peter I just wanted to tell you because you've been a really big influence on my life. I thought that you had a right to know." When there was no reply he continued. "I messed up. You've always been quick to point out my mistakes and I'm glad that you did because you taught me to learn from them so next time maybe I won't make another one."   
  
"You don't get a second chance this time Carter. You only get one life." He still sounded upset, but not as angry.   
"And I plan on living every minute of it." Both men remained silent for the next few minutes. Finally, Peter spoke up.   
  
"Carter, man, you really messed up this time. But, if you need anything. If you need any help or just a friend you can call me. You know?" Carter smiled.   
"I know. That's why I called you. Look, I'm gonna be ok. I am. We all gotta die sometime right? And hey, at least I'll die good looking!" He smiled when he heard the snorted laughter from the other end.   
"Don't flatter yourself man." He bantered.   
  
There was soft knock on the door and Carter looked up to see Susan Lewis.   
"Listen Peter I have to go. There's a beautiful blonde here in a white coat who wants to talk to me."   
  
Peter laughed. "You always did go for the blonde's man. Take care of yourself Carter. Call me when you're out of the hospital ok?"   
"You got it. Thanks Peter, for everything." He hung up and crossed one name off the list.  
  
  
TBC 


	7. Chapter Seven

Extra Pale  
(Sorry for the delay! College just gets in the way of my fan fic writing sometimes. But here it is, Chapter 7. Enjoy!)   
  
"And one more." The large nurse, who called herself Helen, dropped the final pill into his hand. This one was round, and very pink,   
"Ooh festive. All that's missing is the bubble gum flavoring." He joked. It was all he seemed to do lately. Being serious only brought the truth to the surface and currently he was trying to keep it as far below as he could.   
"Just take the pill John." She ordered. He was about to put it into his mouth when he noticed the water glass.   
"Um, unless you want me to swallow this dry and possibly choke to death..." He held the empty glass up and smirked. The nurse sighed angrily and took it. She stormed towards the door, and straight into Mark Greene.   
"Whoa!" Mark exclaimed. The nurse nudged past him and into the hallway with a huff. Mark stared back at her wide eyed. "Who put the bug up her ass?"   
Carter smiled. "I think my sunny disposition ruined her bad mood." Mark turned and smiled. "She doesn't seem to understand my brilliant sense of humor."   
"Well, your sense of humor is more sophisticated then most Carter."   
  
Mark pulled a chair over and sat down next to the bed. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped.   
"It's ok Mark. You can ask me." Carter aimlessly picked at a stray thread on his blanket.   
"Ask you what Carter?" He seemed genuinely confused.   
"How I got it? When? Where? Why? The standard W questions."   
  
Mark cleared his throat and sat back.   
"Abby told me. No one else knows except for Susan and Luka."   
Carter feigned surprise. "You mean the rumor mill hasn't been churning?" Mark shook his head.   
"Closed for the season." He replied. "Actually, everyone down there just thinks you got hit with a bad flu bug." Carter grew serious and shrugged.   
"Eventually I'll tell them all. I just need some time first. Its, uh..." Before he could finish, the nurse charged in.   
She handed him the glass and pointed to the pill, still in his hand.   
"Thanks Helen." He smirked and swallowed the pill obediently. "So, since I've been such a good patient do I get my sponge bath now?"   
With a grunt she left the room. He turned back to Mark, who was looking down and smiling sadly.   
  
"I guess I'm just shooting blanks today." Carter said sarcastically.   
"Carter, are you ok? Really?" Carter examined Marks face and realized that it was time to talk seriously. He shrugged.   
"As ok as I can be. I mean, its a surprise, but at the same time its not." He risked a glance at Mark and found nothing but understanding .   
  
This was why Mark was such a good doctor.  
"Aren't you going to ask me?" He paused. "Or did Abby already tell you?"   
"Abby said that you'd tell me what you wanted me to know." Mark replied simply. Carter raised his eyes.   
"You must be curious. Once the rumor mill gets a hold of this they'll have a field day. I can hear it now. 'His gay lover gave it to him'. 'He slept with a prostitute and didn't use protection', 'He used a dirty needle when he knew it was dirty'!" He realized he was gradually raising his voice and lowered it.   
  
Suddenly he felt Mark's hand on his shoulder. It held firmly, yet gently.   
  
"Carter, listen to me. I don't know how you got this and I don't care. If I hear anything like that in the ER I'll make sure the person who says it is fired. I mean that." He paused to take a breath. "We're a family down there. And you're no less part of that family now then you ever were."   
  
Carter was stunned and touched by the speech. He took a moment to find the right words. Only two came to mind, but they were sincere.   
  
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I lied to you Mark. I'm sorry about all those times I lied to you two years ago." He met Mark's eyes.   
"It's in the past Carter. Don't worry about it."   
"I do though. I mean, this is it." He gestured around the room. "This hospital is my life." He paused again. "This hospital is my home."   
  
Mark squeezed his shoulder. "You're a very talented and capable doctor, and you're always welcome here. Honestly, the place has gone to hell without you around." He paused and smiled. "So when can I expect you back?"   
  
Carter grinned.   
"You mean I still have a job?"   
"You'll always have a job here Carter." Suddenly Marks pager went off, breaking the silent bond that had been formed. "Damn, its the ER." He looked back up at Carter and put his pager back on his belt.   
"It's ok. Go. They need you down there." Carter gestured towards the door and smiled. Mark just looked at him for a moment. Finally he patted Carters shoulder twice before speaking.   
"You take care Carter. They need you down there too." He headed for the door, but paused. "Oh, uh, Susan told me to give you this." He handed a small black book to Carter. "She said to tell you that she lied to you're mom." He scrunched up his forehead as he said this.   
  
Carter laughed and nodded. "Thanks Mark. Its a...long story. See you later."   
"See ya Carter." With that he ran out of the room and down the hall. Carter waited until the footsteps dissappeared before looking at the book in his hands. Now there were no more excuses. It was time to face the truth.   
  
He opened the book to "J" and found the first number he needed.   
Rena Trujillo.   
  
The phone rang five times before there was a click on the other end. Rena's voice came on in the form of a recording.   
  
This was not a message to leave on an answering machine, but he did need to talk to her. He waited for the beep.  
  
"Hey Rena, its, um, John Carter. I know we haven't talked in a while but I really need to talk to you about something. Its, um, important. Very important so if you could..."  
  
"John?" Suddenly Rena's voice was there. For real.   
"Rena? Um...hi." He stuttered nervously.   
"Hi. I was screening my calls. Its the first day off I've had in a while and I'm avoiding everybody."   
"Oh, maybe I should try that more often." He smirked, then thought. "Wait, so why'd you pick up when I called?"   
"Well like you said we haven't talked in a while, and I wasn't sure why you were calling. It boils down to pure curiousity really."   
"That makes sense." Carter replied, nervously twisting the phone cord in his fingers.   
"So, why are you calling?" He chewed his lip nervously.   
"Uh..." He sighed. "I really don't know how to say this."   
"Well just say it John." Rena said in a giggly voice. He sighed.   
"Right. Well, I've been sick lately Rena. Really sick. I'm in the hospital..."   
"That's terrible. What happened?" She interrupted.   
"I, uh, that's what I'm trying to tell you. I have pneumonia, but its not regular pneumonia. Its a special kind that's only caused when someone's immune system isn't functioning properly."   
"You have PCP?" He gasped. He was so stupid. Of course she knew about this, she was a medical student after all. He mentally slapped himself. "Carter, what are you trying to tell me? Will you please just tell me?"   
Rena's voice sounded panicked. He could picture her face at this very moment. Finally, he granted her wish.   
"I have AIDS Rena." He paused and let her react. There was only silence. "It looks like I might have been infected when we were together." He stopped when he heard her silently crying. All he could clearly hear was a small sniffing sound.   
"So you gave me AIDS. Is that what your telling me?" She finally asked.   
"I don't know." He shook his head. "I mean, I don't know if your infected or not. You might be fine. But you need to get tested, to make sure." There was more sniffing on the other end, finally Rena replied.   
"Thank you John. I hope you feel better."   
"Rena I'm..." Then he heard the dial tone. He dropped the phone to the bed and closed his eyes. He whispered the words he knew had no meaning at this moment.   
  
"I'm sorry."   
  
  
TBC 


	8. Chapter Eight

Extra Pale  
  
\\ The dirt surrounded him, caked together so tightly that even the smallest of insects couldn't get through. It formed a solid wall around his entire body, which strangely enough was completely clean. When he moved his head to look down he bumped it on the top wall of dirt, but none fell to the bottom of the tomb. It was as if there were an invisible wall holding it all together around him.   
  
He was dressed in smooth black slacks and a blue dress shirt. It was a long sleeve shirt, but the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He was also wearing his customary tie and suspenders combo. He moved his hands as best he could, but found that they were like lead weights. He did manage to turn his arms over however, and that's when he noticed the blood.   
  
His hand was covered in it. His left hand. The one that's wrist was occupied by his favorite watch. He watched as long red lines inched from underneath the accessory and up his arm. They extended past his rolled up sleeves. He felt his heart racing and his breath coming in short quick gasps.   
  
He felt a wetness underneath him and when he looked down there was a dark red puddle forming. It appeared to come from underneath him, from his back, but when he tried to move so he could see it he was unable too. He found himself completely frozen in place. Even his screams came out in silent, desperate, squeaks.   
  
His eyes darted back in forth but his head didn't budge. His entire body was completely still and all he could see was the dark seamless dirt all around him. He was trapped with no way out. He could only whisper into the darkness, and even those whispers went unheard by his ears. They were simple words.   
  
help  
please  
somebody  
anybody  
  
They were all words he'd uttered before. All words said in desperation and fear for himself and his life. He was afraid now. When he stopped whispering there was only a deafening silence. Nothing moved, everything was completely frozen in place. He closed his eyes and did something he hadn't done in so long.   
  
He prayed.   
  
When he opened them he wasn't alone anymore. Above him was a face of beauty. Her magnificent blue eyes and blonde hair were sparkling like an angels and cheeks had a bright red hue. She wasn't smiling though. She was only staring.   
  
"Lucy..." He whispered as loudly as he could. But she only stared back. After several long moments, she finally spoke.  
  
"Carter, you betrayed me Carter. You killed me. It's all your fault." She emphasized these words and each one was like a knife straight through his back.   
  
ALL   
YOUR  
FAULT  
  
"Please, Lucy don't. I'm sorry Lucy, I'm so sorry Lucy..." He repeated over and over in a small frightened whisper.   
  
"It's only fair, Carter. You must die. Its your turn to suffer. You killed yourself Carter. Its all your fault."   
  
Then she disappeared into the darkness. He was alone again. Frantically he urged his arms to move. He tried his legs, his body, his head, but nothing worked. He was completely paralyzed. He was essentially dead.   
  
He opened his eyes again to another face, which he didn't recognize. It was grotesque, deformed. It wasn't the face of a human being, yet it was. His eyes widened in shock.   
  
"Don't you recognize me Carter?" The voice was familiar. The voice he knew. He felt the sudden urge to vomit, but he couldn't if he'd wanted to. Feeling the bile rise in his throat, he addressed the person.   
  
"Dennis?" He felt tears streaming down his face and his breath came in small gasps. "Is that you?" The face was bloody and torn apart. It was the face of a man who'd been hit by an El train. Or rather, threw himself in front of one.   
  
"Yea Carter, I thought you'd recognize you're handy work. You could have saved me man, but no. You were just too tired to care. I thought you were my friend. I thought you were my friend!"   
  
The face screamed at him and Carter couldn't take anymore. He shut his eyes tightly and screamed a silent scream. He finally recognized this place, this tomb. He examined it with his eyes closed, the memory of it. He knew this place.   
  
This was hell. He was in hell.   
  
And he began to scream again...////  
  
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////  
  
"John! John please, wake up John!" Eleanor Carter shouted desperately at her sleeping son. He moaned and screamed in his sleep and every time she tried to wake him he would just scream louder. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she cried with her very ill son.   
  
He'd told her about the AIDS the day before he'd come home from the hospital. The blonde doctor had come by and asked for John's address book, but she'd just assumed stay out of his business lately. So she'd given it to her, asking only one question.   
  
When is my son coming home?   
  
The blonde doctor had lied. Now, Eleanor was not an expert on lies but it wasn't too difficult to tell when the woman refused to meet her eyes and stammered when she talked. She'd said that John had taken on a few extra shifts, that she wasn't sure when he'd be home. Then, as she began to leave, she said something else. Something that was the truth.   
  
I'll tell him to call you.   
  
That's when she knew something was wrong. There was something in her eyes, a sympathetic look. This woman knew something that she wasn't saying. Eleanor didn't push though. She let the woman leave.   
  
Five minutes later she was on her way to the hospital. She drove as fast as she could, but traffic still put her in the County General parking lot an hour later. She went up to the front desk and asked the man there where her son, John Carter, was. He seemed hesitant to say, and looked to a bald man nearby for answers. He'd stepped up cautiously.   
  
"Dr. Carter is unavailable at the moment." He seemed to look her over in suspicion.   
"I'm his mother. I know that he's working right now but its urgent that I see him immediately." She took on her natural commanding demeanor, but it didn't seem to phase this man.   
"Mrs. Carter? I'm Dr. Greene, a friend of your sons. I really can't say when he'll be able to see you though." She creased her brow and pushed back her anger. She felt her maternal nature take over, which told her she needed to see her son.   
  
"Dr....Greene is it? I must see my son right now. I promise that I won't drag him away from his work, but its a very important family matter. I can not stress how important this is. Now, you can find him for me or I will walk every inch of this hospital myself but I will see John."   
  
That did it. The doctor and desk clerk, along with a few other people in the general area, stared at her in awe.   
  
"Close your mouth Dr. Greene." She said lightly. "Now, will you please find my son for me?"   
  
"I'll be right back Mrs. Carter." He'd gone, and next thing she knew she was standing in a hospital room staring down at her terribly pale and sickly child. It brought back horrible memories of Bobby and his length illness. John looked so vulnerable there in that bed. When he noticed her in the room he smiled and made some bad joke. Just like her John to make jokes at the most inopportune of times.   
  
Apparently the bald doctor had warned him because he didn't seem surprised that she was there.   
  
  
She remembered the conversation perfectly. She'd asked what was wrong, and had immediately been nudged aside by a nurse who gave John a handful of pills and a glass of water. He'd told her that he'd tell her in a minute, and began swallowing the pills. One by one, it had taken him two minutes to do. Finally, he finished the water and looked down at the blanket.   
  
Then he said the words she'd never forget.   
  
I'm sick mom. And I'm not going to get better.  
  
She'd cried. He'd tried to comfort her, but never shed a tear. That was John's way. Even when he was a child he'd never put his own needs over others.   
  
She supposed that's why he was such a wonderful doctor.   
  
She hadn't cried so much since Bobby died. Now she was losing her remaining son. Her son who was currently shedding silent tears in his sleep, calling out the names of people she never knew. Only heard about. Her baby was suffering, and there was nothing that she could do.   
  
'I'm sorry John. I'm sorry I'm such a bad mother.'  
  
  
TBC 


	9. Chapter Nine

Extra Pale  
  
AN: I just want to thank everybody for the great reviews! I'm really glad you like this story. It started out as kind of a half idea where I wanted to write something about AIDS but didn't have any actual plot in mind. But I like where its going and I hope you do too. So keep reviewing and I'll keep writing!  
  
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Carter hung up the phone and gently knocked his head against the wall behind him. His father was furious. His mother had taken it upon herself to tell the man and now he was convinced that his son was either gay or back on drugs. He'd once again disowned him. Not that it mattered. The Carter family had never accepted his lifestyle choices. As far as he was concerned, his only ties to the family had died with his grandparents.   
  
It also appeared that Barbara knew now too. But he wasn't planning on explaining anything to her anytime soon either. She hadn't bothered to speak to him in years. When he was stabbed none of them had been by his side. In a way, it was the same thing. He wasn't sure how they expected to be there for him this time around either. The Carter's didn't deal with the sick or the dying. It was to messy, to risky to get involved. It had been that way ever since Bobby died. Carter was sure it wouldn't change because of his recent predicament.   
  
He stood and made his way into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and searched its contents half-heartedly. It looked like the maid hadn't bothered to go shopping this week. There was a carton of milk, a pack of old bologna, and some eggs. He sighed and closed the door. He began to turn around, but changed his mind and reached for the freezer.   
  
Inside were a number of frozen dinners. He looked over his choices: macaroni and cheese, chicken strips, tuna casserole, or a rather unappetizing looking meatloaf dinner. He picked up the macaroni and cheese and closed the freezer door.   
  
Carelessly reading the directions on the side panel, he tossed the plastic tray into the microwave and set it for four minutes. He then leaned back against the table and watched as the tray moved around and around in circles to the beat of the humming of the oven. He took a deep breath and began coughing. He still wasn't completely better, but had insisted on being released. His stubborn streak did come in handy sometimes and Luka and Susan had no choice but to let him go.   
  
Just as he was becoming hypnotized by the sound and sight of the microwave, an alarm sounded. He looked down at his watch and pushed the correct buttons to shut it off. Chewing his lip in a silent frustration, Carter headed for the counter top. There, lined up against the wall, were several pill bottles. All had his name on the label, and all were part of the infamous triple cocktail.   
  
He casually opened each container and shook out one pill each. He the examined the handful of medicine in his palm. He became transfixed in the patterns etched on each individual tablet. The smooth curves and various colors seemed to put him in a trance. He quickly snapped out of it though, and filled himself a glass of water. He popped two pills at a time into his mouth and swallowed them without difficulty.   
  
His goal was to swallow the whole handful at once by the end of the month.   
  
He laughed at the ridiculous image that came to mind. Sure it was childish, but it was something to shoot for. It was a goal he could possibly accomplish before he died.   
  
Or not. He decided he'd have to ask around and see if it was physically possibly before getting his hopes up.   
  
He glanced back at his dinner, thawing in the microwave. He had a few minutes. Maybe he could make a quick call.   
  
He went back into the dining room and picked up the phone. He dialed information and waited for the operator to pick up.   
  
"Can I help you?" The operator asked.   
"Yes, I need to know the number of a Ms. Elaine Nichols please."   
"Hold one moment sir." Carter toyed with the phone cord nervously as he waited. Finally, the operator came back.   
"I'm sorry sir, there is no listing for a Ms. Nichols."   
"Are you sure?" He asked curiously.   
"Yes sir. Is there anything else I can do for you?" She asked. Carter chewed his lip.   
"Uh, no thank you." He hung up and stared at the opposite wall.   
  
Last he'd heard Elaine had moved back to Chicago. Sure, they hadn't talked or seen each other in a year, but she hadn't mentioned any plans to move. This was not good at all.   
  
He shook it off and remembered the list. He stood and approached the hall closet. He opened it up and rummaged through his coat pockets until he found the crumpled piece of paper. He unfolded it and laid it out on a nearby table. With his pen, he crossed off all but two names. There was Elaine's, and then there was one more.   
  
Carol Hathoway.   
  
He picked up the phone and dialed the Seattle number. The phone was picked up on the first ring.   
  
"Hello." It was Doug.   
"Hey Doug, its Carter."   
"Hey Carter, how are things in Chicago?" Doug seemed cheery today.   
"Uh, not too bad. How are you and Carol doing?"   
"Great." He said without hesitation. "We just got back from getting the twins hair cut actually."   
"Oh." Carter smiled at the image. "I bet that was an adventure." Doug laughed.   
"That it was. Tess takes after her father, that's for sure. She bit the barber twice." Carter laughed despite himself. "Sounds like you alright Doug. Hey is Carol around?"   
"Yea Carter she's right here." He heard Doug telling Carol who was on the phone. "Here ya go Carter. Take care alright?"   
"You too Doug. Bye." With that the phone was exchanged and he heard the muffled cries of the twins in the background.   
"Hey Carter!" Carol's voice came on the line.   
"Hey Carol. How are things?" He asked casually. He'd work his way up to the bad news.   
"Things are pretty good here. How are things there?"   
"Uh, just like they always are I guess. County's the same as always." He commented. They always liked to talk about the old days at County General, when Carter was just a med student. Things had been so different back then.   
"So not too good huh?" Carol joked. Carter laughed. "So how are you Carter? I haven't talked to you in a while."   
"Uh, actually..." He trailed off, unsure of what to say next.   
"What is it Carter? Is something wrong?" There was a loud crash and he heard Carol scolding Kate. A minute later she got back on the line. "I'm sorry Carter, Kate's just not behaving today."   
"Taking after her sister huh?"   
"Unfortunately yes." Carol replied lightly. "They are identical twins, I guess I should have expected it." There was another lengthy pause where Carter thought of how to say what he had to say. "Carter, is something going on?" Carol finally spoke up. "You don't seem like yourself."   
"Um, yea something is going on actually. I got some bad news last week."   
"Oh..." Carol replied, truly sympathetic.   
"Yea, um, the thing is back when I was on drugs I did a lot of stupid things. You know that though." Carter explained.   
"Did Kerry say something Carter? She's not threatening your job is she?" Carol asked, her voice suddenly aggressive.   
"What? Oh no, no Kerry has nothing to do with this. I, um, I've been sick lately and just to be certain I took an HIV test." He paused and waited for any sign that Carol was still there. She made an affirming sound and he continued. "It was positive for AIDS."   
  
The next few moments were filled with muffled sniffs and gasps. Finally, Carol came back on in a voice thick with tears.   
"Are you sure? I mean, did you take another test? Maybe the results got mixed up."   
"No, no I'm sure. It's AIDS." He paused and heard her holding back tears. "I'm sorry to tell you like this Carol, its just that you've been a good friend to me and I wanted you to be one of the first to know."   
"Oh God, Carter." She seemed to have control of herself now. "I'm sorry. Are you ok? I mean, are you taking the cocktail?" In the background he heard Doug questioning Carol.   
"Yea, I started right when I found out. I'm ok right now. I will be ok for awhile so don't worry about me. I just, I just didn't want you to be surprised." He listened to the muffled conversation between Doug and Carol. Finally, Doug came on the other line.   
  
"Carter? What's going on? Carol's crying and she won't tell me why."   
"Doug, hang up the phone..." Carol began.  
"No, Carol it's ok. I, um, was just telling Carol that, uh, I'm dying."   
"What? Carter what are you talking about?" Doug asked.   
"Doug please..." Carol interrupted.   
"I, oh God, I'm sorry for having to tell you this way. I really am, I didn't mean to..."   
"Carter just tell me what's going on." Doug said.   
"I have AIDS. And yes I'm sure it's AIDS." He answered. Doug was silent and he heard sniffling coming from Carol.   
"Carter, I'm sorry. I mean, is there anything we can do?" Doug asked.   
"Just don't worry about me ok? I'm fine. I just thought I owed you guys enough to let you know what was going on. I didn't mean to disrupt your lives, every thing is going so well for you and that's great because I'm really happy for you." He was close to tears, but pushed them back. "Anyway, that's all I needed to say. I'll be in touch."   
  
He hung up the phone and squeezed his eyes until the tears could no longer fit through the tiny slits in his eyelids. He took a much needed breath and walked back into the kitchen. He stopped to lean on the counter for a moment and take in all that had just happened.   
  
He wished he hadn't said anything to them. They were so happy. They deserved their happiness.   
  
Shaking the thoughts out of his head, he opened the microwave and picked up his macaroni and cheese dinner. He tore the plastic cover off and sat down at the table with a fork and napkin.   
Staring at the bubbling cheese and the rigid noodles he began to reflect on the past week. He realized that this was it. It was not going to get any better then this. It could only get worse.   
  
Hand over his mouth, Carter jumped up from the table and raced to the bathroom.   
  
  
TBC  
  
AN#2: FYI- In this fic Carter's grandmother (Gamma) is dead. 


	10. Chapter Ten

Extra Pale  
  
AN: Sorry for the huge delay! I've had a busy week again. Blame my friends for making me stay out till four AM last night. Yes, I had nothing to do with it. =P It was all them. Well anyway, here's chapter 10. I'm thinking I'll conclude this fic in the next chapter. Wouldn't want to beat a dead horse, so to speak. Enjoy and please review!  
  
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Carter wavered impatiently back and forth as he waited for the phone to be picked up. He watched a trauma roll past him and checked his watch again. The phone was on the fifth ring. This didn't look promising.   
  
"Hey Carter, glad to see ya back." Mark Greene approached from behind. Carter turned and smiled.   
"Thanks Mark. I picked a hell of a night to come back though. This place is like FAO Schwartz at Christmas time."   
"Only if the giant stuffed dogs picked up revolvers and started shooting at each other." Mark replied. The image of stuffing pouring out of bullet holes made Carter smiled again.   
  
Mark patted him on the shoulder once. "Take it slow today Carter. We can't afford to lose you again." The irony of the statement was not lost on either of them, but it passed quickly as the receiver of Carter's phone call finally picked up.   
  
"This had better be important. I have a plane to catch." An irritated voice, sounding a lot like his late grandfathers, came on the line.   
"Hey Douglas. It's John." Carter replied.   
"John? What's going on? Did something happen?" Carter's cousin replied.   
"Uh, why would you say that?" Carter asked, humor in his voice.   
"Why else would you be calling me? You've insisted repeatedly that you do not want anything to do with our family." His voice was cold, Carter cringed.   
"Yea I, uh, guess I have. Listen, nothing is wrong. I was just wondering if you had heard from Elaine lately?" There was a small pause.   
"Elaine?" He finally asked.   
"Yea. As in you're ex-wife Douglas. You do remember her right?" Douglas laughed.  
"You mean one of my many ex-wives John. Why do you want to know anyway? Or should I just not ask?"   
  
For a moment Douglas's voice lost it's snobbish tone and became more childish. It almost reminded Carter of Chase's voice, before the overdose that is. Douglas could be nice when he wanted to be, but that wasn't very often.   
  
"Well, I treated her here at the hospital a while ago actually. I, um, was just looking through some old files the other day and was reading hers. I just thought I'd follow up." It was a flat out lie, but Carter was good at lying. You couldn't be a Carter and not be.   
  
"Sure John. Or you could just be trying to get into her pants."   
  
Unfortunately the Carter's were also human lie detectors.   
  
Carter laughed. "Listen Douglas, I don't have a lot of time. Do you know her new number or not?"   
  
Suddenly, Douglas cleared his throat and became serious. "Yea. Yea I have her new number. She called me about eight months ago. But, um, she said was sick."   
  
Carter froze. "Sick? How sick Douglas?" Douglas became very uncomfortable.   
"I don't know John, have I ever listened to what women tell me? All she said was that she had to leave the country for awhile to get some kind of treatment. I haven't heard from her since."   
  
Carter's mouth went dry. He found it hard to speak all of a sudden. Finally, he forced the words out. "Thanks Douglas. Can I please have the number?" The man read off the number's and Carter jotted it down in shaky handwriting.   
  
After he hung up, he felt as if a cloud had descended upon him. He'd accepted the fact that he was dying. He'd even accepted the possibility that he might have infected somebody else.   
  
But he'd never thought that he might have killed somebody, yet.   
  
Rena's test had come back negative. That had gotten his hopes up for Elaine. But now it seemed that there was no hope. Elaine was sick, and chances were it was because of him.   
  
He looked up as another trauma sailed through the doors. Kerry was leading this one, with Deb and Malik by her side. He noticed Deb give him a pleading look, and he knew that she wanted him to help them out. Deb and Kerry weren't exactly on friendly grounds since the lawsuit. Deb often turned to him for rescue.   
  
But he didn't have the time to rescue anybody right now. Right now he had to right a wrong. He had to find out, once and for all, just how much pain and suffering he had caused.   
  
He grabbed his cell phone and started to head outside.   
  
"Hey Jer I'm going on a break. I'll be back in twenty minutes." Without waiting for an answer he headed over to Doc Magoo's.  
  
Five minutes later found him staring at a full cup of steaming coffee and trying to hide the fact the his hands were shaking. It was the medicine mostly. The nausea and vomiting were other side effects, but the doctors claimed that was just until they balanced out the dose.   
  
But no, it wasn't just he medicine this time. This time he was just plain scared.   
  
He picked up his cell phone and dialed the number Roger had given him. When it began to ring, he relaxed a bit. Somewhere in the back of his mind he had been doubting that Roger was a reliable source.   
  
Somebody picked up on the third ring.   
  
"Nichol's residence. May I help you?"   
"Um, hi yes. My name is John Carter. I was told that I could reach Elaine Nichol's at this number." Carter talked with as much confidence as his mood would allow. He always had superb control over his voice, no matter what the situation.   
"Who gave you this number?" The woman immediately asked. Her older voice wavered a bit.   
"Um...Douglas Carter. He's my cousin." Carter paused. "It really is very important that I speak to her. I understand that she's not feeling well but..."  
"Elaine is dead Mr. Carter." The simple statement made him catch his breath.   
"Excuse me? Did you say dead?" He asked, even though he knew the answer.   
"Yes. She passed away a few months ago. I'm very sorry you had to find out this way."   
He stopped to think of how to ask the next question. It was something he needed to know. "May I ask how she died?" He paused. "I'm an ER doctor in Chicago and I treated Elaine a while ago. If it was something that I missed..." He began, trying to pry the information out.   
"It was cancer. By the time they found it, it had spread throughout her body. There was nothing left for the doctors to do." The woman seemed to speak in a monotone voice, unaffected by emotion.   
"I see. I'm very sorry. I..."   
"Its ok Dr. Carter. She is not you're patient anymore." With that the woman hung up. Carter stared at the phone in his hand, stunned.   
  
'She isn't my patient anymore; but she was my friend.'  
  
He wasn't sure how long he sat there, staring at the steam rising from his coffee cup. He wrapped his fingers around the cup handle and turned it so the Doc Magoo's emblem faced him. He traced it effortlessly with his finger tips and forced himself into a trance.   
  
"More coffee sir?" He looked up to see the blonde waitress smiling down at him and holding a coffee pot full of black liquid. He looked past her and noticed the clock on the far wall.   
  
Time to go back to work.   
  
"No. I'll just take the check." He answered and put the phone in his jacket pocket.   
  
After paying the check and giving the waitress a hefty tip, Carter marched back out into the cold. Just as he was approaching the ambulance bay, his watch timer went off.   
  
He headed to the lounge to retrieve his pills.   
  
  
  
TBC 


	11. Chapter Eleven

Extra Pale  
  
AN: This will be the final chapter in this series. I hope you've all enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it! I just don't want it to end up like one of those never-ending fics where people start getting bored with it. All good things must end. =)   
  
Dedication: This is dedicated to Lisa Left-eye Lopez; who passed away the 25th of April, 2002. She was a great singer and an awesome role model for girls and women around the world. She will be missed.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
2 Years Later: 2004  
  
  
Mourning is something that everyone goes through at least once in their lives. It is natural to grieve for those who have left us. 2004 was a year of loss for the doctors, nurses, and staff of County General Hospital.   
  
First there was Deb Chen. She was offered an excellent faculty position at a hospital in Florida. Her co-workers had thrown her a surprise going away party, complete with a tropical theme and a palm tree shaped cake compliments of Chuny. Deb had cried numerous times during the evening before finally walking off to a new life.   
  
Next was Elizabeth Corday. She and Mark had separated and eventually divorced. She went back to England, where she got a great job as a pediatric surgeon in a highly established hospital. She took Ella with her, but Mark planned to visit twice a year with Rachel; Elizabeth agreed to come back to Chicago often so Ella could spend some time with her daddy. While their marriage had been a bust, they continued to remain good friends.   
  
The final departing member of the team was the beloved surgeon, Donald Anspaugh. After an eighteen month battle with cancer, he finally passed away. One thing about Anspaugh was that he was always a fighter. Even in the worst moments, when the chemotherapy ravaged his body and his once full figure had wasted away to nothing, Donald still fought back. He never gave up on his faith in modern medicine. In his final moments he uttered the name of his deceased son , Scott.   
  
Now, only months after Dr. Anspaugh's death, they were about to lose another member of their tight-knit family. John Carter, former med student and doctor at County General, was on his deathbed. This time the culprit was not a schizophrenic man with a 6-inch knife. This time the culprit was not a needle and Fentynol. This time it was AIDS. Or rather, diseases resulting from the AIDS.   
  
Carter had requested that he not have a funeral. He didn't want people to cry over his cold dead body in an expensive casket. He wanted them to remember him as the person he had been before; the healer, the friend, and the heart of County General Hospital.   
  
This was why they all gathered at his home on this gloomy, freezing evening. To say goodbye to the one who had held them together for so long. The one who had made them laugh in the tense moments, and covered for them when they really needed it. A damn good doctor.   
  
Eleanor Carter opened the door for her arriving guests and showed them into the parlor. She shut the door behind her gently and joined them.   
  
"Thank you all for coming. It really means a lot to my John." As she spoke, tears formed in her eyes. It was apparent that she would not keep her composure for very long. Mark Greene stepped to the head of the crowd and touched the grieving woman on the shoulder.   
" Thank you for allowing this. It means a lot to us as well." She nodded sternly in response and wiped away at the tears. It had taken a great amount of persuasion to get the woman to allow this visitation. In the end, though, her son's wished had won out.   
  
It was either that or the persistent stubborn streak that Carter played at so well.   
  
"Madeline..." She spoke to the maid. "Please show our guests to the family room and get them whatever they would like to drink. I'm going to go check on John."   
  
John Carter opened his eyes when he heard the bedroom door close. He looked up just as he mother removed her hand from the knob of the closed door.   
"Are you sure you're feeling up to this John? I could ask them to come back another time." The woman offered helplessly. Carter smiled his classic smiled and spoke in a low whisper. Any louder and he would go into another coughing fit. He found it ironic that he was going to die of the same ailment that had alerted him to his HIV status.   
  
"Its ok Mom. I'm feeling fine." He replied. Despite the pain that racked his entire body, that wonderful glimmer of happiness still shone in his eyes.   
  
She walked over to his wheelchair and knelt before him. She placed her hand on his head and frowned at his rapidly rising temperature. "Of course you are." She spoke in a brave voice, lined with the remnants of her previous weeping. She stood and ran her fingers through his hair. "You're guests are waiting for you in the living room."   
  
He smiled up at her and squinted as another coughing fit racked his frail body. Wiping the blood from his mouth, he struggled to keep his breath. Eleanor felt the tears brimming in her eyes again, but held them back for her son's sake.   
  
"John?" She asked, in a worried tone.   
"We'd better get out there. Wouldn't want to drop dead before I get to say goodbye." He joked, but soon regretted it as it upset his mother. He placed his hand on her arm and smile reassuringly. "I'm sorry Mom. Old habits die hard."   
  
She just nodded in return and moved to the back of the chair. Slowly she wheeled him out to the mourners.   
  
When they saw him they held back their gasps. He was thin and frail. His hair was stringy and dirty and his complexion was pale. Abby leaned back into her chair and fought back the urge to cry. Benton clung tighter to Cleo's hand in an effort to remain strong. Susan rung her hands nervously. Sure, they had all visited him frequently, but once he began to get too sick he'd asked them to stop coming by. He hadn't wanted them to see him in such a state.   
  
"Hey everyone." He widened his eyes. "Whoa, guess I shouldn't have dyed the hair after all." He joked with a smile. Then he thought about the statement. "Dyed as in bent over the bathtub pouring peroxide that is."   
  
Mark was the first to speak up. He cleared his throat. "Sorry Carter. I guess, we're all just a little overwhelmed."   
"I can't blame you. I was pretty shocked myself when I looked in the mirror this morning. But you get used to it." He stopped and looked at all the occupants of the room. On one sofa sat Abby Lockhart, Luka Kovac, Kerry Weaver, and Mark Greene. On a smaller sofa Doug and Carol Ross huddled close to each other, each holding a twin. Susan sat next to Carol in a tight squeeze and in a chair across the room sat Rocket Romano himself. Benton and Cleo occupied two wooden kitchen chairs next to the large sofa.   
  
Romano broke the silence with his high pitched, slightly uncomfortable voice, "We miss ya around the hospital Cowboy. No one to do all the dirty work for us."   
"Robert!" Kerry scolded. Carter smiled at the joke and silently thanked Romano with a quick nod. Romano nodded back, understanding the small gesture was well meant.   
"Oh Kerry, would you stop coddling the man? He knows that we appreciate his hard work taking urine samples and doing pelvics."   
"Romano you know full well that..." Benton began. He stopped when he caught the silent communication going on between the two. "...Carter doesn't do scut work. He makes his med students do it, right Abby?"   
  
Abby smirked. "Actually I've found that nurses get vomit duty more often then doctors. I wonder why, Carter?"   
Carter laughed. "What can I say Abby, can't mess with tradition."   
  
The humorous moment passed as Carter began to cough repeatedly. His mother stepped up to help him, but Susan stopped him, kneeling beside the chair and helping him herself. He looked up into her sorrowful stare and met her eyes for a moment.   
"Thanks." He muttered in a volume only she could hear. She smiled in response and ran her hand down his arm lovingly. Once she stood and returned to her seat, Carter spoke again.   
  
"Well, I guess we should get to the point. Don't really have much time for beating around the bush these days." He looked around the room when no one laughed. "Guess you were right Mark, my sense of humor is just too sophisticated for the average person."   
  
Mark smiled and snorted a laugh. "That it is Carter." He nodded at Mark and continued.  
  
"I called you all here today because, as you can tell, I don't have very much longer. I wanted you all together because you all have influenced my life in so many ways. It wouldn't have been nearly as eventful and worthwhile without you all in it. So, thank you for making my time interesting." He paused and took in the looks the others were giving him. Most were of pride and understand. Others were just plain sadness.   
  
"Anyway, I have a big announcement to make." He chanced a glance at his mother, who smiled at him reassuringly. "As many of you are aware, I have a rather large amount of money saved up in a trust fund given to me by my grandparents. The easiest decision I've ever had to make, was to donate all of it to County General."   
  
There were a number of gasps from the crowd.   
  
"John, are you sure?" Kerry asked, as if it were a dream come true. He smiled at her.  
"Positive Kerry. There's no place that could use it more. People need County. Working in the County ER taught me one thing over anything else." He paused and took a slow breath. "Not everybody is made of money."   
  
The others laughed and Carter smiled as the response. He even chuckled as much as his lungs would allow.   
"Glad we could teach ya something Carter!" Mark commented.   
"All those years under my teaching and that's the most important thing you've learned?" Benton joked.   
  
"Don't worry Dr. Benton, you taught me a lot too." As soon as the room went silent he continued. "You taught me that money doesn't get you places in this world, will power and determination does. That's important too."   
  
Benton refused to meet Carters eyes, and he knew the compliment had sunk in.   
  
"I've made my share of mistakes, but if it weren't for all of you I wouldn't have been able to recover from them as effectively as I have. I can't even begin to imagine getting through the stabbing, Lucy's death..." His voice cracked slightly, but he maintained control. "The drug addiction, and facing death without you all by my side." He looked down and wiped at his eyes. He looked up and continued. "I learned so much at County. You all became my family when I didn't have one." He looked at Kerry. "You took me in when I didn't have a home, you supported when I hit rock bottom..." He looked at Benton and Abby. "And you gave me a lot of really happy memories as well." He glanced at Susan, Doug, Carol, and the others. "I can honestly say, that I can die a happy man."   
  
Carol wiped at her eyes and reached out to hug Carter. She was followed by Doug, Mark, Abby, Susan, Kerry, Benton, and Cleo. The others shook Carters hand and gave him smiles and nods full of approval and pride.   
  
As the evening drew to an end, Carter found himself smiling at the two little faces sitting his lap. The twins laughed as he played with them and he found himself finally, truly happy.   
  
He died later that night, wearing his County General lab coat and name tag.   
  
  
  
THE END 


End file.
